Together In A Black Room
by saphirefox-irl
Summary: Snape and Sirus have more in common than they've realised. Slightly AU. Different time periods. Not slash. Very violent. More Warnings inside.
1. Make It Stop

Warning contains child abuse, torture and rape. Also minor self-harming. Insanity in latter chapters.

**Day 1 of summer holidays.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

He sat with his back pressed against the wall and his knees up at his chest. His right arm stuck out from his body at an awkward angle. His long greasy hair hung down over his face but a large blossoming bruise was still visible on his temple. He seemed dazed. His mouth moved as he repeated something to himself, over and over.

The looming presance moved into his mind. He wanted to close his eyes but couldn't. His weak defences were quickly torn aside by the will of the older, more experienced, wizard. And then his father started to search, methodically, through his memories. Had he misbehaved at school? Had he spoken to any mudbloods? Any students not of a noble family? Had he fraternised with those outside the Siltherine house? Had he thought about it? Had he prepared as he should for the honour that he was soon undeservingly to recieve? No. He didn't even want it!

Rough hands closed around his shoulders, pulled him to his feet. A backhand swipe to the face was viscious enough that his nose started to bleed.

"You ungrateful maggot!"

His father grabbed hold of his injured arm and flung him across the room. He hit a wall and fell to the floor in a heap. His head bowed he watched the blood dripping down. His lips were still moving._ "Make it stop. Make it stop..."_

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

"You continue to bring disrepute down on the family name! You are worthless! Worthless! Worthless! You are no child of mine! Do you hear me? If I'd known how you were going to turn out I never would have brought you into this world. You're a discrace! It's bad enough that you were sorted into Griffondor. But then to associate with mud-bloods! And a werwolf! A werwolf! Did you think I didn't know about that? You're father has connections in the ministry. He knows all about that Lupin boy! What do you have to say for yourself? Well you good for nothing waste of space?" A silence followed. Sirus knew that to speak in response would only draw this out for longer. He already knew where it was heading.

_"Get it over with."_

Quite suddenly Mrs. Black's demeaner changed. She stopped fuming and became quite calm. A slight unplesant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She took her wand from her pocket, pointed it at her son. He braced himself.

"Crusio."

He couldn't think, struggled to draw breath. He didn't remember falling but he was on the floor. The agony was unbelievable. He could never get used to it. It felt like his bones were exploding, like his skin was on fire. He was screaming though he didn't know it. He screamed and screamed untill his troath was so raw he couldn't scream any more. How long did she hold the wand on him? It must have been hours. When she finally stoped her husband was standing beside her. She waited untill Sirus had regained some awareness of his surroundings. Then she turned to the man. "I think you can finish his punishments." He smiled at his wife. Then he strode over to his son, grabbed him and threw him into a table so that he was half ontop of it lying face down. He ripped off the boy's shirt and tossed it aside. Then he retrieved a whip from the drawer of a cabinet. He held the black leather firmly in one hand. He brought his arm back in preperation. He swung forwards. The forcked tip cracked against Sirus' back and he bit down on his lip against the pain. The whip struck again. And again. And again. And again. He could feel the blood flowing down his skin, soaking his trousers. And with each lash only one thought was running through his mind: _"Please make it stop. Just make it stop!"_


	2. Distractions

Well no one reviewed the first chapter. I'm going to post this anyway though. Is this really bad or is it just that no one's read it?

Get rid of the "minor" before the self-harming warning. You'll see why in part 6.

**Day 2.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

Unwillingly Serverus opened his eyes. It was morning. The light made his head hurt. But it was nothing compared to his arm. Wincing he pulled up his sleeve to examine the limb. It was crooked from a point about two inches below the elbow. That ment both bones had to be broken. He could have fixed it if he'd had his wand. He pulled the sleeve back down to hide the purple bruising that went all the way down to his wrist. Pushing against the wall he stood up. The room seemed to spin slightly but he made no acknowledgement of this.

He made his way to the bathroom, searched through the many dark glass bottles and jars that inhabited the medicine cabinet. After a minute he found what he was looking for. The lable read 'Pain Reducing Potion'. Ignoring the instructions (a spoonfull in water every three hours) he pulled off the stopper with his teeth and drank half the bottle. He put it back where he'd gotten it. Catching sight of himself in the dark mirror, he noticed the dried blood covering his face. He got a towel and meticulously cleaned off every speck.

Leaving the bathroom he continued on down the corridor. Reaching a large, slightly ajar, wooden door he stopped. Cautoiusly he listened outside it. No sound. He took a piece of polished metal from his pocket and used it to look through the crack and into the room. He saw the blurred outline of a woman sitting at a desk but no shape that could have been his father. Relaxing slightly he entered the room.

"Mother?"

Her pale slender fingers were embroidering a pillowslip with a childish floral pattern. Upon hearing her son's voice she turned. She was strikingly beautiful, her features angular and her hair almost white. But her pale blue eyes were soft and slightly stupid. One was ringed by a fading bruise. She smiled and stood to embrace the young teenager. He bit his lip as she did and wouldn't allow himself to mention his arm.

"How was school? All the other children must be so jelous of your clever brain! I bet they can't do half as many spells as you!" Suddenly and without warning her expression changed from one of excitement to worry. "Wait. What are you doing here? You shouldn't be in here! Your father will be home soon and he'll be angry! You have to leave! Get out! Get out!" She hurried him towards the door, closing it behind him once he'd stepped through.

With a sigh Serverus started down the wide stone staircase. The pain didn't matter, he wished she was still holding him. He entered the library. The light was dim when the curtains were drawn and the air smelt of musty paper and leather. Moving between the mahogony shelves he ran the fingers of his left hand along the spines of the books. Finnally he picked one 'Defencive Hexes And Jinxes' and moved to sit in a large high backed chair with it resting on his knee. He opened the midnight blue cover. His eyes followed the words on the yellowed pages. His mind slipped away to a world of wand movements, curses and cryptic words.

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

Sirus was locked in his room. Again. He looked around, at the battered blanketless cot, at the barred window with it's unbreakable glass. He knew every dent and stain on those walls. He'd spent every summer for the last five years staring at them, and most of his life before that. He wanted to scream and throw himself against the door. He wanted to punch the walls untill his fists bled. But the noise would draw there attention. They wouldn't like it, especially if there were guests in the house. So botteling up the frustration and rage he sat down on his pitiful excuse for a bed.

How he wished he could be with James right now. Or Remus. Hell, even Peter. Just not here on his own, confined like this. They said he was disruptive in school. Of course he was! It was a chance to finnally let out all the pent up emotions. A chance to shout and run and laugh. And have people pay attention to him without the worry that they'd pull out a wand and... He rubbed his arms because it was cold and his father hadn't given his shirt back to him. His back was still hurting like crazy but he wouldn't let himself think about that. He thought about his friends instead. James. He wished he could be just like James. He'd do anything his best friend wanted. Even some things he didn't want to do himself. He was so afraid if he didn't that they wouldn't be friends anymore. Then there was Remus, who he thought he almost loved. Loyal, intelligent, always willing to make friends and so gentle. Peter on the other hand. He ate too much, he was always cowardly and reticent about taking part in the numerous pranks they played as the marauders and he only passed his exams by copying off the others. Still, he was a friend. Sirus stared up at the ceiling.

_'Anywhere but here. I wish I was... Anywhere. But. Here.' _

He tried to picture Hogwarts, Honeydukes, the Shrieking Shack. But stubbornly the grey plaster refused to be displaced.


	3. Unbearable

Thank You Misthea for reviewing. Cause you did I'm going to post this next part earlier than I was planning to. I'm sorry about all the spelling mistakes (I'm dyslexic), I'll try harder to get rid of them.

**Day 3.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

It was two thirty am when Serverus awoke with the book still open in front of him. He froze in the seat, not even breathing, instantly on alert as to what could have disturbed his sleep. Then, over by the door, a shadow moved. A male figure stepped closer. He didn't need to see the face to know it was his father, continuing to approach. Already he could smell the alcohol.

_'No. Why does he have to be drunk? I can deal with him sober. I don't care how much he hits me. But please, not this again!'_

Still he hadn't let so much as the tip of a finger twitch.

_'Maybe if I don't move he won't see me. Maybe he doesn't know I'm here. Don't be stupid! What would he be doing in the library but looking for you? Oh please don't let this happen again...'_

His father stood directly in front of him, not a meter away. There was no question now that he was unaware of his presence.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a son. Look at you, so thin and weak! You might as well be a girl! I bet you'd like to be fucked like a girl, wouldn't you?"

He was shaking all over now. This was how it started.

"Stand up."

He did as he was told.

"Take off your robes."

He had to struggle to control his breathing. The shaking was so bad that he was hardly able to obey.

"Hurry up!"

He did, jolting his broken arm in the process. The clothes were off, lying in a pile on the floor. He stood there naked, staring at the space between his feet.

"Look at yourself. Look!"

He did.

"You're disgusting. Do you hear me? Disgusting!"

_'He's right.'_

"No one will ever want you. No one. But you want men, don't you?"

"No."

He sounded terrified, a small voice, a child's voice.

"Don't lie to me boy! Now get down on the floor and I'll give you what you want. I'll give it to you till you don't want it anymore. Maybe then you'll stop acting like such a sissy."

He shook his head, a quick frightened movement.

_'No. Not this. Anything else. Not this.'_

"Do as I say!"

_'Not this. Not this. Not this. Not this."_

A violent shove knocked him to the ground. A moment later he felt the weight of his father as drunkenly the man climbed on to of him, preventing any attempt at movement. His face was pressed against the floor-boards. Dimly Serverus was aware of the tears on his cheeks.

He shuddered at the touch of the penis against his thighs. His skin was crawling. He was biting down so hard on his lip that it was bleeding. Then his father pushed inside him. It hurt. It hurt so much.

_'Make it stop. Just make it... I can't...'_

The heavy body on top of him thrust forwards. Again and again.

_'Why won't it ever stop?'_

Dark bruises were forming on his pelvis, on the lower half of his rib cage and on his thighs. But he couldn't feel them. Minor damage was blocked out by blinding agony.

_'I hate you! I hate all of you! Why won't you help me?'_

His father came inside him. A sudden rush of heat.

_'Like hatred.'_

Several moments passed. Roughly the man pulled out of his son, then without a word strode from the room. Serverus was left lying on the hard floor, wettened by his tears and blood. His whole body was trembling uncontrolably.

_'Weak. Worthless. Disgusting.'_

He reached for his robe, pulled it on. He curled up as tight as he could, into a little ball, squeezed his eyes shut.

_'Don't rock. Weak. But I am... Can't make it stop.'_

**Number 12 Grimaland Place.**

It was well into evening and the sun was starting to go down again before anyone came to Sirus' room. He heard the click of a key in the lock. Then the door swung open and his mother's form stood where it had been.

"There will be a party tomorrow night. While it is going on I do not want to hear a sound from you. The visitors will be extremely prominent members of the pure-blood wizarding community and if you cause even the slightest amount of disturbance you will be sevearly punished. Do I make myself clear?"

He nodded.

"As a precautionary measure... Kretcher come in here!"

The loathed house elf came into the room, dwarfed under the bundle of chains in his arms. When Mrs. Black relieved him of the load it became clear that it was in fact a single length of sturdy chain with a thick manacle at each end. She looped it through an iron hoop that was bolted to the wall. She turned to Sirus.

"Come here."

He did as he was told. Disobeying her now would only make things worse. She locked the shackles around his wrists. She smiled. She took the wand from her pocket. Holding its tip against his lips she mummered "Sealeo". He felt a sudden shock and then found it unexpectedly difficult to breath. He couldn't draw any air in through his mouth. Lifting his hand up to his face a moment later he discovered the reason why. His mouth was gone. From nose to chin was nothing but smooth skin. He fell back against the wall in shock. He wanted to scream but gagged at the attempt. Smiling more broadly than before his mother walked to the door. She turned. The grin practically reached her ears now.

"Crucio."


	4. Trapped

Thanks for the lovely reviews! They meet in this chapter for a little bit and they will again latter on. I would change the summary as you suggested but it wouldn't be accurate when I get a bit further into the story.

**Day 4.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

He was still in the library, sitting on the window seat. His eyes seemed to see nothing and everything all at once. There was a air of incredible youth and vulnerability about him as he sat there, a pale skinny boy, half hidden behind the curtains.

The sound of his father's voice shattered the silence. He flinched and instantly hated himself for it.

"Have you forgotten what day it is? If you aren't cleaned up and in your best robes within fifteen minutes I will make you wish you were never born"

_'I already do.'_

He forced himself to look up, to meet the man's gaze. By the time he'd managed it however - he was once again alone in the room.

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

They stood in a circle, their black robes reaching to the floor, their faces obscured by masks. The Death Eaters. The Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Tom Morlova Riddle stood at the centre of the circle.

As he'd been instructed Serverus approached on his knees, kept his eyes down and kissed the hem of Lord Voldemort's robe.

"Look at me boy."

He tilted his head upwards and was regarded by the second greatest wizard of the age. Riddle noticed the now fading bruise on the side of his head. And he noticed the intelligence and building frustration behind his eyes.

"Now hold out your arm."

He did as he was commanded and raised his left arm - his right would have been impossible. Voldemort pulled back the sleeve. Once again he noted the bruising, fresher this time and in a recognisable pattern of fingers. He touched the tip of his wand against a patch of pale skin. A sudden intense burning pain filled Serverus' mind. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. The agony seemed to last for hours, though in reality he knew it to be only seconds. Then it was over, replaced by a hot throbbing ache. The Dark Lord smiled.

"Welcome."

Serverus looked down at the arm he no longer owned, looked down at the dark mark seared into his flesh.

They'd given him his death eater robes and mask, congradulated him. He'd almost laughed at that.

_'Congradulations on becoming a slave!'_

Still... nobody here was mocking him. They didn't think he was worthless. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

_'They're only using you because of your talent for potions.'_

_'Shut up! I don't care.'_

Voldemort had left now and there was a party going on. Serverus understood that it was for him. Still all he could think of was to get away from it. There was too much noise and too many people. It made him uncomfortable. But he knew he had to stay in this house a while longer. Otherwise his father would be angry with him for not following proper ettiquet. What a joke! Everyone knew why the Blacks hadn't invited Mr. Snape himself to this gathering. He'd have ended up passed out in his own puke before the night was out.

It was getting even louder now. Inane laughter and flushed faces.

_'I hate them. All of them! Got to get out of here.'_

He decided to go upstairs and find an empty room where he could sit for a few hours. No one noticed him slipping away.

He climbed the stairs and found a large bedroom and a bathroom. However he decided it would be best to stay out of thosetwo rooms. Then he noticed a door across the corridor, locked from the outside. Thinking it must be a spare room or a storage area he quickly turned the key and stepped inside. He stopped, frozen to the spot.

Sirus was inside, staring right at him and chained to the wall. He had no shirt on. There were old scars on his chest. His mouth had been sealed. There was a blood stain on the wall where he must have been banging his head off it.

He stood in the doorway for several long moments, too shocked to speak or even think. Then, suddenly snapping out of it, he turned and quickly left the room.

Sirus wanted to scream and shout and curse till his lungs bled. Of all the people to see him like this! FUCK!

_'What if he tells everyone at school? I don't want them to know. I don't want James to know...'_

He started to smack his skull against the stones once more, harder than before.


	5. Things Get Worse

Thanks for reviewing. It made me update. I know I can't spell (like I already said I'm dyslexic). This is me with a spell check!

**Day 5.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

It was quiet when Serverus woke up that day. His father wasn't yelling. His mother wasn't singing to herself. The house elves weren't scurrying about in the kitchens. On getting out of bed he felt dizzy. It took him a while to realise why; that he had hardly eaten in the last week. He decided to go downstairs and find some breakfast. But as he walked past the door to his parent's bedroom he stopped.

He knew that smell. He knew it far too well. Coppery and sickly sweet, like metal and vomit.

_'Let her be alright. Please...'_

Out of habit, he listened at the door. There was no sound. Slowly he turned the handle. It was silver and shaped like a coiled snake. He pushed the door open. The smell was stronger now. He stepped inside.

He retched and was momenterally glad there was nothing in his stomach.

His mother was lying against the side of the bed. Her head was tilted back, her eyes open, unseeing, dead.

There was blood everywhere, smeared across the carpet, splattered on the walls, spreading out in a wide puddle from her corpse. She looked so pale. She could have been made from snow if it weren't for the bruises and crimson stains. Another wave of nausea swept through him. Why was this happening?

_'She was a good person. This isn't fair.'_

He reached out to touch her face but drew his hand back before he could. There were tears on his cheeks. The last tears he would ever cry.

He didn't hear the front door open and slam shut. He didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs. He hardly felt the rough hands close around his shoulders and pull him up from where he'd been kneeling on the ground, staring at his dead mother.

"What are you doing here you little shit? Why are you in here?"

His father shook him as he shouted, his face red.

_'She's dead.'_

Slowly, moving as though he were in a trance, Serverus lifted his head.

Black eyes met grey.

"I hate you."

The teenagers voice was quiet and calm and terrifing.

"I'll be smiling when they put you in the ground."

With an angry roar the older man threw him against the wall. He smacked his head hard and didn't feel it.

_'She's dead.'_

His father loomed over him.

"You will not tell anyone about this!"

He kicked him visciously in the stomach.

"If you do. I promise I will kill you too."

_'Why would I tell? No one ever helps.'_

He grabbed hold of his son's long hair and dragged him out onto the hallway. He shoved him up against a wall, pinned him there with an arm across the troath.

"You will say nothing! Do you understand?"

With each word he bashed his son's head off the plaster.

"You. Will. Say. Nothing."

Finally he released his hold, allowing the boy to fall to the wooden floor.

He lay there, flexing the fingers of his broken arm, barely conscious of the shooting agony this movement caused.

_'She's dead.'_

_'Some day I'll see him pay.'_

_'She's dead...'_

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

His mouth was back. But for that small favour he didn't have time to be thankfull.

Both his parents were standing just inside his room.

His mother stepped towards him.

"I warned you not to make a sound. Didn't I?"

She moved closer.

"Kretcher heard you banging your head on the wall. Your disobedience will be sevearly punished this time."

_'Isn't it always?'_

"Alohorama!"

The chains clanked open, releasing his wrists. Mr. Black stepped forwards, punched him hard in the face, then pushed him up against the wall. The whip lashes on his back re-opened and started to bleed upon hitting the rough stone. He winced. His father puched him again in the face. He did it over and over and over. The boy's head just felt like one shapeless mass of pain. Strong arms flung him to the ground. He heard his mother laugh.

"You're really going to get it now Sirus. Crucio."

The pain was ripping him apart. He was sure of it. He could only dimly feel his fathers boots connecting with his ribs. It was so bad. His thoughts were fragmenting. He was falling down an infinite chasm. He was on fire, his skin cracking and charring. He was being crushed, his bones were being pierced by a million needles. He thought the beating was still going on but couldn't remember what he'd done to bring it on. He couldn't remember his name. Or anything else. Except the pain.


	6. Pain

Wow, two reviews on the same day! They made me update early even though I'm really busy at the moment. Don't worry Léne they are going to meet and the story is going somewhere.

**Day 6.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

He was sitting on the end of his bed, staring at a blank wall. He hadn't slept or made

any effort to change out of his bloody robes.

'She's dead.'

He felt something like a scream building inside his mind and knew that if he let it out he would leave sanity behind and there would be no going back. Very calmly he took hold of his right index finger. He bent it back slowly, no expression on his face, untill the bone snapped. The tension lessened. He started slowly rocking.

'She's dead'.

He stopped, got his middle finger. Snap.

'She's dead.'

Snap. Snap.

'She's dead.'

'Why is this happening?'

'She's dead.'

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

He woke up to blinding agony. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. He couldn't tell if it was day or night because he couldn't open his eyes. For a long time he just lay there, breathing as shallowly as he could, shaking from the after effects of the second unforgivable curse.

He started to wonder where he was. Moving one bruised hand in an exploratory fashion he felt bare floorboards. Probably still his own room then. He lay motionless once more. Even that small action had caused almost unbearable pain. He felt really sick. And cold right through. He wondered if he was going to die this summer. His family would probably be pretty pleased.

'I don't want to die.'

'Not even to escape this?'

'I want to live. I want to see my friends again.'

Bitting down on his split lower lip he made himself curl up into a ball, trying to conserve whatever heat there might be in his body. How much longer was it till he could go back to school? How about till he was eighteen and could leave this place forever? He tried to calculated the number of days but couldn't. The pain insisted on being the focus of all his thoughts. Eventually he gave up trying to block it out. Instead he just concentrated on breathing.

Several hours latter he became aware of footsteps in the room. It took him a moment to recognise them as his brother's. He felt Regulus lift him into a sitting position. Bursts of bright white agony drew his attention to the fact that most of his ribs were broken. Something was poured into his mouth. Half of it dribbled back down his chin. A hand tilted back his head so that he'd have to swallow. He gagged and coughed uncontrolably but most of it went inside of him. He felt himself being lowered back down.

"Thank you," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was no reply. More footsteps. Then he was once again alone and lying on the cold floor.


	7. Ineffectual

Thanks Fiery pirate bitch for reviewing twice! I'm going to update early again because of it. I would have posted yesterday but I had to transfer the story from a notepad to my computer to one of the engineering lab computers. Also there was an extremely upsetting incident involving one of my best friends running away from home again. After which I couldn't find sufficient motivation to sit up (never mind go to work or class). But anyway I'm feeling a little better now so here's the next chapter.

**Day 7.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

_'She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. _

_She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead.'_

_'He killed her.'_

With that thought Serverus stopped rocking. He stood and walked downstairs.

In the library he searched purposefully through the many leather-bound volumes. After a few minutes he pulled one out. Ornate gold lettering on the black cover read 'Dark Magick'. Ignoring the icy chill that filled the room upon opening the book he started to read.

It was several hours latter and Serverus had finished the first book and also 'Fell Forbidden Ritual'. He was almost half way through 'Binding Spells: Forcing Karma' when the dark mark on his arm started to burn. It was almost as bad as when it had been created. But with the pain came knowledge: he had to go somewhere, he knew the place. The voice of the dark lord commanded "come!" and allowed nothing else to take precedence.

He changed into his death eater robes and half in a trance stumbled outside to take an old broom from the shed. It was covered in dust and cobwebs. As he climbed onto it he vaguely recalled that he couldn't stand flying. But the burning in his arm was pulling him, pulling him towards his master.

Somewhere in the middle of a pine forest he dismounted the broom. The other death eaters were already there, Voldemort at the head of the circle. Hurriedly he took his place.

"Well," Riddle smiled, "this is the problem with initiating children too young to have an apparition license." He looked across at Serverus. "Don't be late again." A pause. "I suppose I'd better punish you. Crucio."

The curse wasn't held for particularly long and afterwards the teenager managed to pick himself up from the ground without having screamed. Voldemort looked pleased and continued on to the next order of business: 'sport'.

"Lucious, go get the muggles."

Bowing lightly the young man departed. A few moments latter he returned, grinning and levitating three muggles behind him. A family. A man with a gash on his forehead. A woman, her face covered with dried blood from her broken nose. And a little girl.

_'She can't be more than five.'_

Lucious dumped them in the center of the circle. The child started to cry.

_'I can't let this happen.'_

The mother pulled her baby into her arms.

_'You can't stop it.'_

Voldemort smiled and the 'fun' began. Serverus dug the nails of his unbroken fingers into his palm and fought not to be sick.

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

Sirus discovered that morning that the swelling had gone down enough that he could open his right eye just a fraction. It wasn't enough to let him see properly but he could at least have a general idea of what was going on. The new information was not encouraging. It seemed that he looked as bad as he felt.

There was a lot of half dried blood, sticking to his skin and to the floor. He knew it was probably covering up wounds but didn't really care. At that point trying to deal with his injuries just seemed like too much effort. He felt exhausted and horribly weak. After a few attempts he managed to get to his feet and stumbled over to his bed.

He lay there shivering against the cold, drifting between sleep and the painful nightmare that was reality.

Some time after the sun had set he regained consciousness fully. He decided to try the door.

_'Ok. Now I just have to get to it.'_

The pain and dizziness on standing made him want to throw up. Crossing the room he had to lean against the wall to prevent his legs from buckling. One bruised hand stretched out to tentatively push the door. It opened. Sirus wanted to cheer and jump for joy. But a sudden lightness in his head removed his sense of balance and he fell face first out onto the corridor.

It was several seconds before he returned to awareness. The fresh pain caused him to wince. Forcing himself not to cry out he got to his hands and knees and from there back to a standing position.

The journey downstairs took far longer than it should have. He was afraid of passing out and being found by one of his parents. But finally he reached the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was empty.

He found a bottle of milk and hurriedly took a gulp. A second latter he started coughing uncontrollably. It took nearly a full minute for the fit to pass and when it did Sirus drank again. More carefully though this time, with only little sips.

When the liquid hit his stomach it started to ache. His vision started to swim slightly. He put down the bottle. Looking through the presses he took a lump of cheese and a couple of pieces of fruit and shoved them into his trousers pockets for latter. Then, without warning, he froze.

He held his breath. His father was speaking to someone. The conversation was taking place in the sitting room but Sirus could hear through the open kitchen door.

"The attack will occur tonight."

He couldn't make out the response.

"Voldemort's forces will apperate to the out-skirts of Hogsmead at midnight."

There was a long pause, then an evil laugh.

"Indeed. We will take them completely by surprise. It will be a massacre."

He was barely aware of the conversation ending or of the fact that it must have been taking place through the fire. The words echoing through his mind at that moment were as loud as thunder and blocked out all other sound.

_'Attack. Hogsmead. Tonight. Massacre.'_

He needed to do something, to warn people somehow.

_'But who can I tell? It's not like I know any aurors.'_

Then it hit him.

_'Dumbeldore."_

He'd know what to do.

_'But how?'_

He couldn't go to Hogswort. His family would find him before he'd been gone ten minutes. But somehow he had to get a message to his headmaster.

_'I can't use the floo network.'_

His father was in front of the fire right now.

_'And I don't have an owl.'_

Then an idea occurred to him. He scanned the room, after a few seconds locating a scrap of parchment and a quill. Even taking the quill in his hand hurt. He could barely make out the words he was writing. But he forced himself to concentrate as quickly he scribbled a letter.

Professor Dumbeldore,  
I heard my father say that there is going to be a death-  
eater attack on Hogsmeade. It's meant to take place  
tonight at 12. I didn't know who to tell, you were the only  
one I could think of. This isn't a prank. Please believe me.  
Sirus

Careful not to make any noise he went out into the hall. He picked up his mother's wand from the table top where she'd left it. It was made from beech wood, very long and slender. He could never have used it for spells, it was nothing like his own wand and reacted badly to him. But he could use it to call the knight-bus. Then he'd just have to convince the conductor to take the letter to Dumbeldore. He could do this. So why were his hands shaking?

_'I'm just tired.'_

He forced himself to walk to the door.

At that moment his father left the sitting room.

"And where do you think you're going?"

He stiffened. His father spun him around and slammed him against the wall. A dozen wounds started to bleed freshly.

"Are you a fool, trying to leave this house? Do you want to bring even more shame down on your family? Where would you have gone? Well? To the home of one of your muggle loving Griffindors? I think even they would turn away a stupid waste of flesh like you."

_'Don't let him see the letter.'_

The older man backhanded him across the face. He fell, smacking his head off the wooden boards. Instinctively he pulled his legs up to his chest, expecting further blows. But his had seen the parchment. A second later it had been snatched from his hand.

As Mr. Black read, his face turned scarlet. For a few seconds he stood silently as Sirus struggled to steady his breathing. It was too fast, jerky and gasping. It was sending shooting pain through his ribs.

"A blood traitor. A blood traitor for a son."

Rough hands pulled the boy upright. They pushed him forwards, towards the stairs. But he was too dazed, too hurt and too weak. His legs buckled and he fell once more.

"Get up." A kick to the ribs caused him to gasp. Fingers closed around his hair, yanked him upwards. His father marched him to the steps, where he tripped again. An already broken bone shattered and blood poured over smashed teeth and down his chin. He felt a hand grasp his shoulder with painful strength and start to pull him upwards. He tried to stand to avoid being dragged but only managed to get to his hands and knees. Another sharp tug caused him to fall from even that position and white-hot pain flared where his elbow connected with the banisters. Then up further and further till they reached the landing. Then Sirus was being dragged into his room. He tried to struggle but there was no strength left in his body. His father threw him against the wall. There was a loud thud and he collapsed in a heap. Then there were fists and feet, broken bones and blood, and finally, after what seemed like hours upon hours, merciful nothingness.


	8. Punishments

I didn't realize the last time I updated that you'd reviewed twice too Léne so thank you. What you said made complete sence, don't worry! Sorry for the delay, I caught up with what I'd written.

Just a warning, this chapter is particularly horrible.

**Day 8.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

Serverus sat in the bath-tub scrubbing frantically at his skin. The water had been scalding when he'd gotten in but had long ago gone cold.

_'Got to get the blood off.'_

Parts of his arms and chest were now pink and scratched from the continuous abrasion.

_'It won't come off.'_

His eyes were wide and saw nothing of the room around him. Instead he was looking at the face of a little girl. _She was crying, struggling against the grip of the death-eaters who held her. She wanted to reach her parents. Whether or not she understood they were dead, that there was nothing she could do, it was impossible to tell. Her father was pinned to a tree by a sword through his abdomen. His wife lay naked near his feet. Both of them were covered in blood. The child was frantic, tears staining her small face. Voldermort smiled and leveling his wand on her cast the crucios curse._

Serverus scrubbed harder.

_The tiny girl screamed and screamed._

He was drawing blood now.

_Dead eyes. Forever staring. Accusing. Dead eyes. And Malfoy laughing._

The nail brush slipped from his fingers. Finally, his gaze seemed to come into focus. He realized what he'd done to himself. For several long moments he just sat there, feeling his breathing return to normal, watching the tear shaped specks of crimson as they dropped into the water.

_'I let it happen. It was my fault.'_

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his wet hair soaking the back of his robe, when the door opened. His father staggered in. Clenched in his left hand was an empty bottle of fire-whiskey.

"Where the hell were you?" he slurred.

Emotionless, "a meeting."

"You think you're such a big thing now, don't you?" He took a step closer. "Just because the Dark Lord wanted you for his little group. Well you're not! You're nothing! You're a pathetic little whimp! The only thing you're good at is making stupid worthless potions. That's all he wants you for."

Serverus did not argue. He didn't struggle when a hand grabbed his shoulder and threw him to the ground. The pain in his broken arm no longer mattered to him.

"You think you've the right to just run off whenever you feel like it? You're mine! I own you and I can do whatever I want with you!"

He raised the bottle over his head and flung it at his son. Slicing through skin and lodging in flesh it shattered into a hundred pieces.

The teenager didn't resist as his father tore away his robe, even though the touch of the man's hands made him want to vomit. Those hands had killed his mother.

_'But I deserve this.'_

_'Stop touching me. Stop touching me! Go away! I want you to die! Stop touching me.'_

_'But I deserve this.'_

A hand squeezed his genitals sadisticaly.

_'I just want it to stop.'_

He was flipped over. The broken glass cut into him and the floor became slick with blood. Then his father pushed inside him and he had to force himself not to scream. With ever viscious drunken thrust the glass fragments pushed in farther. His skin, now dark and shiney with blood, crawled and he fought the urge to gag.

_'I deserve a hundred times worse than this.'_

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

The next Sirus knew of consciousness was a pair of gloved hands clasping each of his arms. He groaned in pain.

"Shut up!"

A sharp slap to the face caused his head to loll to one side.

But he recognized the voice as his father's. The hands holding him had not moved.

"Take the traitor. Take him! He is nothing to me. Let the Dark Lord decide his fate."

A few seconds passed. Then he felt himself being dragged from the room. There was a brief surge of unbearable pain before once again he passed out.

The room was dark. After a moment of confused thought he corrected himself. The room might be dark but he couldn't tell. His eyes were swollen shut again.

Everything hurt. He thought his father must have broken half the bones in his body. In fact, this assessment was not far wrong. He was in so much pain he was having trouble differentiating one injury from another. 'Everything hurts' was about as far as his knowledge stretched at that moment.

Gradually he became aware of chains around his wrists and the cold stone floor beneath him. He realized where he must be. He wondered vaguely what Voldermort would do to him. He knew it would be bad but just then could hardly bring himself to care. It was hard to imagine things any worse than they already were. With something like shock it occurred to him that this was probably the worst his parents had ever injured him.

_'At least that's three summers I won't have to spend with them.'_

_'But I don't want to die.'_

_'Not like there's much choice.' _

He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. Then he stopped, remembering the attack on Hogsmeade.

It must have happened by now.

_'I didn't even manage to stop it.'_

He wondered how many people had died.

_'I failed them. I'm so useless.'_

He lay still, listening to his heartbeat to reassure himself that he was still alive, that this wasn't hell.

Hours passed. He faded in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he dreamed and was confused, forgot what had happened and thought he was waking in his bed in Hogwarts.

_'Are those footsteps on the stairs to the dorm? Has James been up to some mischief under his invisibility cloak again? Why didn't he ask me to come? But that's not how James walks. His steps are lighter and slower to match his swagger. No, that's not James. _

_In fact, there's more than one person coming.'_

A word was muttered and there was the sound of a heavy door opening. Louder footsteps now, and someone trying to suppress a laugh.

"Hello boy."

The voice was rough and mocking. Sirus found his throat too sore and dry to respond. But it didn't matter since he couldn't think of anything to say anyhow.

"The Dark Lord is letting us do whatever we want with you."

He heard the laugh again. A few seconds passed. Someone grabbed his head, forced him to sit up. The hands traveled to his shoulders, then ran down his chest, brushing injuries. He gasped in pain and confusion. Now the fingers encircled his waist. Sirus felt his fly being opened and then his trousers were being pulled off. Suddenly aware of what was happening he tried to cry out, to resist. But it was no use. Before he knew what was happening he'd been thrown back down to the ground. The deatheaters pinned his wrists to the cold stone. Conspiratorial laughter. Then sudden pain. A sharp knife was tracing patterns on his skin. Sirus bit his swollen lip and tried to stay as still as possible.

But the 'guards' tired of that quickly. The stood. The teenager held his breath.

A sudden violent kick to the stomach caused him to choke. He tried to curl into a ball but too many of his bones were broken and he wasn't able. Then two pairs of hands took a hold of him and forced him to lie face down. Someone climbed on top of him and he started to panic, trying to break free. A punch caught the side of his head. Skin touched his skin, just at the end of his back. He cried out, the sound somewhere between a scream and a whimper. There was that awful laugh again. He felt wetness at the top of the death-eater's penis.

_'No.'_

There was a violent push and an explosion of pain. Sirus was screaming and didn't know it. His attacker rocked against him sickeningly. As the sudden flow of semen invaded his body the boy wondered how hell could ever be any worse than this.

Then a new voice spoke. "Come on, get up. It's my turn now."


	9. Towards Despair

Here's the next part, sorry it's so short. I just want to say that, in case anyone missinterperates this chapter, I don't have any problem at all with homosexuality (actually I'm bi). The reason the stuff that goes on is being described so negatively is because it's rape not because it involves people of the same sex. That should be obvious but I thought I'd just make it clear.

**Day 9.**

**Snape Family Mansion:**

Serverus sat with his back to the wall, not caring about the pool of stickey half-dry blood that surrounded him. Disinterestedly he pulled a chunk of glass from his shoulder. He held it in his hand. Without realy thinking he made a fist, a tight fist. Fresh blood dripped to the floor. Red-brown stains were all over his room; the walls, the floor, even some small ones on the ceiling.

He watched the dark liquid falling to the ground, seeping through his fingers from his slit palm.

**Number 12 Grimaland Place:**

It was dark. And cold. And damp. And Sirus was crying. Tears leaked from between swollen lids. He couldn't stop. His whole body was shaking.

'Hurts.'

He didn't mean his injuries.

'I don't want to be here.'

The tears were leaving tracks in the dry blood that covered his face.

'It hurts too much.'

The deatheaters came back latter that day. They stood just inside the cell for several moments. The silence was unbroken but for a whisper and a nervous laugh. Then, without warning, one of them spoke a single word; "crucio".

The pain in his body increased a hundred fold. But it was nothing to the pain of his mind.

"Flagulate."

A sudden burning slashing pain cut across his chest and shoulder, then again across his legs. It was like his skin was on fire. The feeling did not die down.

He gasped as someone yanked him up by the hair then practically threw him across the room.

The side of his face was throbbing where it had connected with the stone. Hands grabbed him and pulled him up. He felt a pressure on his chest and then a dart of pain as sharp teeth bit at his right nipple. Then a wetness as a tongue snaked vulgarly along his skin. He tried to back away. But there was nowhere to go and the grip that held him was tight. The mockeries of kisses, the perversion of a sacred act, continued. Gloved fingers grabbed at his penis, roughly trying to force an errection. He was crying again. So much pain! Physical abuse he was used to. But this was different. Worse. Every touch made him feel dirty and sick. Mercilessly the hands moved over his body, pressing down cruelly on his injuries. Then he was flipped over onto his stomach and the pain increased.

And for the first time in his life Sirus honestly and truely wished he were dead.


	10. Orders

Sorry this update took so long. I've been sick. I still am a bit actually. Thank you Léne for updating again. I though it was pretty clear but I can be (very) bad at judging other peoples responses so I was just being on the safe side. Glad you think it wasn't nessescary J

**Day 10.**

**Forest Clearing:**

The Dark Mark had started burning at seventeen minutes passed nine. At twenty-eight minutes passed Serverus arrived at the deatheater gathering. Again he was 'punished' before the meeting began.

They'd caught an auror this time. To make things even better he was a muggle-born.

He was brought into the circle with his hands and feet bound. His mousey brown hair hung in bloody bangs, practically covering his eyes.

It was a long time before he died. The sun was starting to come up.

Voldermort dismissed the deatheaters. They started to disapperate. Snape headed for his broom. Four words from Voldermort stopped him dead.

"Serverus, you will remain."

He turned, nervous but refusing to let it show. The smile on Tom Riddle's face was evil even when he was not making a conscious effort to be intimidating.

"I have a job for you."

With an effortless motion of his wand he caused a piece of parchment to fly to the younger wizard.

"Be at that address at four tomorrow. You are to assist in the creation of a new potion." Serverus was about to turn and leave when Voldermort spoke again. "Just to make this absolutely clear. When term begins and you once again have access to your wand, you will be participating fully both in sport and in nights such as this one."

**Deatheater Headquaters:**

Sirus could open his eyes again. But nothing he saw brought any comfort. The walls, floor and ceiling of his cell were damp scarred blocks of grey stone. The door was heavy wood. There were no windows. It was probably far underground. The only light was what came through the crack under the door. The air smelt sickeningly of blood and decay.

He looked around for his trousers, found them in a heap near one of the walls. Hurriedly he pulled them on, ignoring the pain the movement caused. At least now he was covered. He didn't want to look at the bruises on his hips. The ones on his chest and circling his wrists he couldn't avoid. But it wasn't too hard to pretend that they, like the multitude of other wounds that covered his body, were due to a beating from his parents. Yes, that was all it was. He'd been bold. His parents had punished him. Just like any son would be punished. And now they'd sent him to his room. That was all. None of this was happening.

He scraped the bare skin of his arm along the rough stone of the wall. He repeated the action.

_'This isn't happening. I'm not here. This isn't real.'_

A little trickel of blood stained his skin, black in the darkness.

_'This isn't real. No. If I close my eyes and count to ten I'll be back in Hogwarts with James and all my other friends._

_1, 2, 3, 4...'_

For the first time he could see his tormentors; three men and a woman. They wore the black robes of deatheaters but had dispensed with the masks.

One of the men had an air of leadership about him. He was tall with broad shoulders and closely cropped brown hair. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. A dangerous intelligence showed in his grey eyes.

Of the remaining two men one was heavily muscled, with a permanent scowl on his thin lips. The other was noticeably overweight. His hair was sandy coloured and plastered to his head. His round face wore an expression of stupidity.

The woman could have been beautiful - if it hadn't been for the cruelty etched into every line of her face. Her black hair was tied back in a long plait. She was young. In fact Sirus thought he could remember seeing her around Hogwarts a few years ago.

_'Oh well, what difference does it really make? They're probably all friends of my parents anyway.'_

The tall man approached.

He backhanded the teenager to the floor and climbed on top of him. Vulgarly he moved his hands over the smaller body. Then suddenly he stopped. The woman had spoken.

"I want first turn this time Joseph."

The words were formed slowly, languidly, with a hint of what might have been boredom. A slight but unpleasant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

'Joseph' looked angry but stood nonetheless. Another emotion flashed briefly across his face. Was he afraid of her? She moved with exaggerated slowness to stand over Sirus. She pulled up her robe, was wearing nothing beneath it. She straddled him, positioning herself practically on top of his head.

"Suck me."

"No." His throat was ruined from screaming and lack of water. He could barely force the word out as a whisper.

Laughing wickedly she took a wand from her pocket.

"Crucio."

Pain. So much. More than his mind could ever process. His muscles convulsed, forcing broken bones farther out of place. Blood began to flow steadily from his nose.

"You will do it."


	11. Breaking Out

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! It is so nice of you to be worried about how I'm feeling, thank you Léne. I don't think writing stories is too bad for my health. It's probably more not sleeping enough, not eating well, having no heating and getting drunk or stoned pretty much every weekend:) Seriously though I am trying to make an effort (it's hard cause there's lots of other stuff to do) but thanks again. Thank you Crescomellonnin for reviewing so many times. All those review alerts in my inbox made me happy. Sorry CitrusPeach there's not going to be any Sirus/James interaction:( The story's going to skip ahead a good few years now. (Plus I find James difficult to write.) It was nice of you to ask about my friend. He's not ok and I doubt he ever will be. (It's not fair is it, the way some people just never get a chance?) But yea, I hope so too. Frosting comes in cans? Wow. Does it go on the cookies or do you eat it on its own? I'm curious now :)

This is the last chapter in this part of the story. There will be three parts all together.

P.S. As you can see this is a pretty long bit. And I'm worried there might be some out of characterness.

**Day 11.**

**Deatheater Headquaters:**

He could almost enjoy creating the potion, if he didn't let himself think about what it would be used for. It was a poison he was to make - one designed not to kill but to make the body seem dead.

_'Don't think about it!'_

Two dozen lace-wing legs.

Half a pound of crushed mugwort.

Stir until the liquid turns a brick red colour.

_'To not be able to move or speak or blink and yet to be fully conscious... Stop it!'_

Four drops distillate of moonstone.

Allow it to fizz for six seconds.

Add a dried blossom of deadly nightshade...

"Take a break!"

Serverus started at the sudden noise, nearly spilling a flask of spider venom. Then, realizing it was only the voice of the older deatheater sent to supervise him, he calmed quickly. His cheeks reddened with shame.

"You've been hunched over that cauldron for six hours. I'm going home to bed. I suggest you do the same."

"I'd rather get this finished tonight."

He shrugged. "Your life. At least take a break though. Go for a walk. Get some fresh air." He stopped himself before finishing that thought. _'You could use it.'_ It was none of his problem if this boy looked as pale as a sheet of paper, looked as if he'd lived his whole life locked underground.

The walk brought little in the way of fresh air. There was ten feet of earth above the ceilings and the stench of corruption had found its way into every corner. The sense of Closterphobia was almost overpowering.

All these corridors (or was tunnels a more appropriate word?) seemed the same. Dark. Dark and dismal. But then the light wasn't for him, was it?

_'No. That's reserved for Dumbeldor's beloved Griffindors.'_

The dark was all he'd ever have. All he was allowed.

He was on the point of returning to the potions lab when the faint sound of screaming registered in his pre-occupied mind. Whether it was morbid curiosity or a sense of duty to bear witness Serverus couldn't tell. But something made him follow the noise. After a minute or two he reached a guard. The screams were quite loud now, filled with agony and desperation.

"What's going on?" he asked, feigning casualness.

The guard smiled. "Serverus Snape isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Oh you'll like this. Come with me. I'll show you."

With a sense of dread that went all the way to his bones he followed. He knew that whatever was coming he wasn't going to enjoy it.

They walked about ten meters along one of the dimly lit passageways. Then the guard stopped. They were in front of a locked door. It was clear that the source of the screams lay beyond it. Still smiling the guard slid open a small hatch in the wood of the door. He moved to one side, gesturing for Serverus to take a look. He looked.

He started to shake all over. A dozen conflicting emotions invaded his mind. It was a few moments before he recognized Sirus, such was the extent of the other boy's injuries. But instantly he knew what was happening. Rape.

Sirus was naked. A man in deatheater robes was on top of him, fucking him violently with complete disregard for the pain he was causing. Sweating skin. Selfish and sadistic eyes. Struggling limbs.

And over it all the horrible soul destroying screams.

Once he was out of sight of the guard Serverus ran. He ran from what he'd seen, from what he'd heard. Even before he was back in the potions laboratory frantically searching through shelved ingredients he knew he was going to do something. It didn't matter who it was. This time he wouldn't just stand by and watch. A jar fell to the floor. He was breathing too fast. And the shaking still hadn't stopped.

_'Calm down you useless piece of shit.'_

_'Calm down this instant.'_

_'Regain control.'_

He picked up a large shard from the mess on the ground and sliced the heavily bruised skin of his right fore-arm. The pain was intense but he barely noticed it, didn't even wince. The blood dripped to the ground. Drip. Drip. Drip. Regular. Drip. Drip. Drip. Soothing. Drip. Drip. Drip. Like a lullaby. Drip. Drip. Drip. He started looking through the shelves again, but slower and more methodically. He took down a jar and a bottle. Yes, these two mixed together should do nicely.

He stood just around the corner from the guard. Carefully he removed the stopped from the small flask he was holding and rolled it out along the grey floor. Nothing seemed to happen. The guard didn't even notice. However Serverus knew that an invisible vapor was quickly escaping. It wouldn't effect him. - He'd already taken the antidote. Dried dresil leaves, horribly bitter but potent. - But as he watched the guard's eyes started to droop and close. Half a dozen seconds latter his legs folded and he fell fully unconscious to the ground.

He stood in front of the heavy and now grimly silent wooden door. He didn't want to open it. At the same time he wasn't willing to walk away. Again.

Raising the guard's wand he whispered "Alorhama". The door creaked open. He stepped inside the cell. It was dark. But he could still make out the form of Sirus curled into a ball in a corner. His feet didn't want to move. It was five seconds before he could convince himself to go any closer. But he did. He held out the deatheater robe and mask that, like the wand, he'd taken from the guard.

"Put these on."

No response.

_'I don't want to be here. Please just do it.'_

Even in the dim light a huge number of injuries were visible on the other boy. Maybe he was unconscious. Or dead.

Hesitantly he reached down and shook Sirus by the shoulder.

He flinched away violently.

_'What's wrong with you? You've got to put this on!'_

"Sirus Black." He said it quite loudly but still there was no reaction.

Finally he had to resort to grabbing a hold of the injured teenager and pulling him up into a sitting position. He didn't want to look at the blood and the bruises.

_'What do you care. You hate him.'_

For several seconds Sirus just stared straight ahead. Finally he recognized the broken nosed face in front of him. Confusion flashed across his swollen features. Quickly it was replaced by anger.

"I'm trying to help you. Alright?"

Confusion again.

"Look, you need to put this on."

A few seconds passed before he nodded agreement. He was so badly hurt he couldn't get the robe on by himself. Serverus pulled it over his head as quickly as he possibly could.

_'I just want this over with.'_

Making sure both their masks were in place he the other boy to stand. Then out onto the corridor.

The world seemed to be spinning. Sirus was having trouble staying upright. Everything kept disappearing into darkness. It all hurt so much. If he were to close his eyes the world would just fade into a haze of pain.

_'No, have to keep moving.'_

One foot. Then the other. But broken bones and damaged muscles made it next to impossible. With some amazement he remembered who was helping him: 'Snivelrus'. How many other names had they called him? Familiar guilt flooded his mind.

_'How come he doesn't just leave me to rot after all I've done to him?'_

_'There wasn't even any reason was there?'_

_'Just to make ourselves feel big.'_

_'I didn't want to.'_

_'As if that changes anything.'_

"Snape." It was difficult to speak, his jaw was broken. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't expecting that. "It's ok." It's not. "Just keep moving."

One foot. Then the other. One foot. The other. Back to the potions lab again. Floo to Hogsmeade. Walk - or rather stumble now - to Hogswort. Collapse on the shiny floor of the entrance hall.

**Hogwarts:**

There was worry in Dumbeldore's eyes, definite worry. He hadn't even touched the bag of lemon drops that sat on his table.

"What happened my child?" His voice was kindly.

"I'm not your child." _'Unfortunately.'_

Sirus was being cared for by Madam Pomphrey, who Albus had immediately called back from her holidays upon seeing his students. The medi-witch had turned as white as a sheet upon seeing the condition of the boy.

Serverus was sitting in the headmaster's office. He felt uncomfortable and out of place. This room belonged to a world he had no permission to enter. He'd always been in the darkness. Maybe soon he'd forget the light even existed.

Ignoring the outburst Dumbeldore had continued to speak.

"How did you get here tonight?"

Tired of the questions, physically exhausted and not wanting to draw this out any longer than was absolutely necessary he used the edge of the desk to push up his left sleeve. He held out the limb so his headmaster could see the dark mark branded into the skin.

Sorrow became apparent on the old wizard's face. Part of him had suspected this. _'But so young...'_

"How long?"

"A week."

"Sirus too?"

"No, he was a prisoner. I think his parents must have given him up."

Dumbeldore fell silent. It was a moment before Serverus spoke again.

"You can call the Aurors now. I'm ready."

"Child..."

"Just call them. I don't care anymore. It's not like Azkaban could be any worse."

"Why did you take the mark?"

"He wanted me. I wasn't exactly given a choice. But that doesn't matter, does it? I still joined."

"It matters." A pause. "Does anyone know you helped Black to escape?"

"No."

"Then I have a proposition to make."


	12. Unexpected Revelation

Thanks for all the reviews! Yep, that's pretty much why I find him hard to write. Not just you. It's hard to fix other people's problems (especially when you can't fix your own.) Wow, such unusual foods, I'll have to keep writing so I get to hear about more of them:) Remus might be in it but not as a very big part. James won't be because this part is set around third or forth year. I know it's over the top, that's just how I felt like writing it. Yea Dark Lady Cheese Puff, I don't like Dumbeldore sometimes too. There will be lots more interaction between Sirus and Snape now (except this chapter which was nessessary for the plot.) As you'll see it's a bit AU.

**July 30th.**

**Azkaban Prison.**

"I'm sure this personal inspection will allay all of your worries about the island."

Cornelius Fudge, the minister for magic, talked quickly, an artificial smile practically painted on. He wanted this 'tour' over with as quickly as formality would allow. Just being in this place sent shivers down his spine.

"I doubt it Cornelius."

_'Merlin that Dumbeldore is meddlesome. This has nothing whatsoever to do with him.'_

They entered the prison building. Despite the warmth of the day the temperature instantly dropped below freezing. Fudge shuddered and pulled his robes more securely about his rather ample frame. Hesitantly he followed Dumbeldore along the dank corridors.

From behind heavy iron bars disheveled figures screeched insanely and tried to grab at them. Others who were less far gone shouted insults. A few just huddled by the walls, mumbling incoherently to themselves. Nearly all of them were deatheaters. Nearly all of them had once been students at Hogwarts.

Dumbeldore stopped. It was a few seconds before Fudge noticed, such was his hurry to leave the prison.

"What's wrong?"

In the cell before them a ragged figure was chained to the floor. Heavy manacles around his wrists kept his arms widely spread. His mouth was open as though to scream but no sound was coming out. Repeatedly his hands clenched and unclenched. His legs kicked weakly and his back was arched.

"What's going on here?"

"Sirus Black was declared insane on capture. He was placed in restraints when he arrived in Azkaban for his own protection."

"Alohorama."

"Wait, you can't go in there!" the minister objected, rushing after the grey haired wizard. "What do you think you're doing?"

"That's not insanity Cornelius." Then, pointing his wand at Sirus, "finite incantatum!"

For a second nothing happened. Then the writhing of his body stopped and he slumped down against the ground.

"I don't understand."

There was something like anger in Albus' face as he addressed the stunned politician.

"Are you aware that the crucius curse can be made permanent?"

"Oh Merlin... Are you saying that this whole time?"

"You make yearly visits to this prison. You should have realized." They made to leave the cell.

"Wait..."

The voice was nothing more than a whisper, incredibly hoarse. Yet it was unbelievable that he could talk at all. They stopped - he spoke again.

"Look. Legiloramus... The rat... Look!"

"What's he talking about?" This whole situation made Fudge uneasy.

"I don't know. However I am inclined to find out." He walked back to Sirus and kneeled down beside him. Closer now he could see that at some point several of the man's bones had been broken and left untreated. He could see blood and bruises from constant straining against the chains. He stared past dark hollow sockets to brown eyes which struggled to remain open.

"Legloramus."

_"You murdered James and Lilly!" Pettigrew shouted._

_Confusion and anger. "But you were their secret keeper! You're the one who betrayed them!"_

_Wormtail moved closer, so that he could whisper audibly. "That's not what everyone else thinks."_

_Realization. Rage. _

_The short chubby man took a step back. He mumbled something under his breath but the word was lost as the street behind him literally exploded. Sirus was thrown back by the blast. He picked himself up from the ground just in time to see a large brown rat disappear down an open man-hole._

Sirus' head dropped back. "Thank you." He allowed unconsciousness to take him.

Dumbeldore was stunned. 'Innocent?'


	13. Midnight

Thanks again for reviewing :) Sorry for the confusion. I'm no good at writing humor, at least no more than a few sentences. Depressing and violent are about all I can do. Haven't read it but I'll look out for it. Not a chance of me becoming a therapist, I'd be incredibly crap at it. Pay can't be worse than what I'm getting at the moment (most weeks I'm €30 or €40 under my rent). I don't think we have Polar Ice in Ireland or I would try it. But finally some foods I recognize :) … (the fruits) but I just can't remember, are kumquats tiny oranges or those little fruits that look like paper lanterns?

Sorry this is so short, next part should be longer.

**July 31st.**

**Hogwarts.**

Fudge had been hesitant at first to admit the mistake. But he did, eventually. As a result of that Sirus was now lying on a infirmary bed. It had been decided that while everyone still thought him a psychopathic murdered it would be better if he were not sent to Saint Mungo's. So Poppy Pomphrey had once again been called to care for him.

All of that Snape could understand perfectly. The one thing he was unsure about was why he was currently standing outside the infirmary doors.

It was well after midnight. The entire school was dark and empty. The other teachers had all left for the summer. This was his favorite part of the year. He preferred to be alone.

_'So what are you doing here?'_

He was just going for a walk. That was it. Before he tried again to sleep. He hadn't meant to come here especially.

He wore heavy dark robes that covered everything from the chin down. He could feel the fabric against the skin of his arms, against the hundreds of pale scars that ran, perfectly parallel, from wrist to shoulder.

A hand raised to rest against the door, pushing it open a crack against the objection of the brain. Two dark eyes looked into the room.

Black was lying very still beneath a starched white sheet. He looked dead, long dead, like a skeleton. Serverus turned to leave. At that moment Sirus opened his eyes. Liquid brown. Dogs eyes. Covering pain, confusion, hurt. Covering a hundred thousand silent screams. Then they drifted shut and he was asleep.


	14. A Late Beginning

CitrusPeach, Ireland is not a part of Britain! I live in The Republic Of Ireland which is a totally separate independent country. I don't have a clue what Ramen is. All I can think of is a computer animated character who's limbs aren't attached to his body! I'm guessing he's not food though :) I had a slice of starfruit on Friday! It tasted interesting.

**August 1st.**

**Hogwarts.**

Here again.

_'What's wrong with you? It's not like you've any reason to care about the mutt.'_

So why did he keep finding himself here?

_'It's not like I'm his friend.'_

True, Sirus had never after their fifth year participated in the bullying.

_'No. He just sat back and watched like the werewolf.'_

It was half two in the morning. Any sane person would be asleep.

_'What am I doing here?'_

This was a waste of time. He was accomplishing nothing. There had to be something useful he could do. Perhaps revising his lesson plans for the next year.

_'Yes,'_ he thought sarcastically, _'the students would be sure to appreciate that.'_

He watched the translucent form of the bloody baron float down one of the many staircases and pass through a wall, disappearing from sight.

_'This is stupidity.'_ He turned in the direction of the dungeons. He'd gone two meters when the screaming started.

_Pain. Pain was everywhere, comprising everything in his world. It shot through his limbs and burned in his blood. The chains pulled at his wrists as he struggled uselessly to escape the agony. And all the time he could feel them moving through his memories, like cold dead fingers prodding his brain, tearing away all that was good and happy, so that only pain and darkness remained. His mother's grinning face as the pain flew from her wand. Deatheaters entering a cold room that smelt of fear. His friends, dead, the dark mark hovering over their destroyed home. Laughing when the aurors came to get him. Confusion. Terror. Guilt. Despair. _

_And above it all the pain. The unbearable, unimaginable pain that he'd first felt as a child. Second stretching to eternities._

"Black! Wake up!" Long boney fingers gripped his shoulders. "Stop screaming! It's just a memory!"

His eyes shot open, staring straight upwards with the intensity of two laser beams. He took several shuddering breaths. Slowly he seemed to become aware of where he was.

"Serverus?" Confused. "You look old."

"So do you Black." Suddenly he felt exhausted. He sat down on a nearby bed, practically folding in on himself.

"How long was I... there?"

"Fifteen years, nearly sixteen."

A stunned expression crossed his face. That was almost half his life.

"Thanks. Poppy wouldn't tell me." A long pause. "Harry?"

"The brat is fine."

A small smile of relief.

A long silence.

Snape didn't get up.


	15. The Past Is A Cage

Sorry this update took a while. I've been a bit busy and keep getting distracted by another fanfiction I started. (I'll post it after I've finished this one.)

Don't worry about it CitrusPeach, I don't know much about America. That page came up blank. Thanks for the address though. Yea, Indian food is nice!

I have tried make this chapter longer EsScaper. It's still a little short though.

I'm glad you liked it hopgoblin!

Eimear if you're reading this please don't freak out and not like me anymore cause I enjoy being friends with you. I know this is weird stuff to have going on in my head but it's not like it's hurting anyone. Also I know this story isn't very good and I'm probably just projecting my own problems onto the characters when I have them cutting and all but the original stuff I write is usually better.

**August 2nd.**

**Hogwarts.**

_"You're a worthless pile of shit! You're nothing! You're disgusting!" Fists and feet pounded against the flesh of his limbs and back as he lay in fetal position on the ground. His father continued to beat him unceasingly. Serverus struggled not to cry out as his jaw bone splintered. A tiny child soaked in his own blood, lying in a pool of it. "You're a whore and a sissy!" the voice screamed. A hand grabbed him by the hair. "Get up! Get up this instant!" With a sudden rush of dizziness he felt himself being pulled to his feet. _

_Without warning he found himself in the middle of a dark forest. Beside him, instead of his father, stood Lord Voldermort, smiling happily as his deatheaters ripped muggles limb from limb. Severed heads continued screaming long after they should have died. _

_'Wait! This isn't right! I wasn't here, not this young. It's a dream! You're asleep! Wake up! Wake up! You're dreaming!'_

_It started to rain blood, staining the whole world red, as Snape fought to open his eyes. _

_Voldermort grabbed his arm and a fresh brand burned him to the bone._

_'It's not real! It's not real!'_

His hands clenched into fists, his nails cutting into his palms. He became aware of the chair on which he was sitting and the dark room around it. All the candles had gone out. He stood up quickly, before he could fall back into dreams. He was having difficulty steadying his breathing. Wiping his bloodied hands on his robes he crossed the room. He took a small blue vial down from one of the many shelves. Shouldn't have fallen asleep. That would not happen again tonight. He wouldn't permit his body to betray him. Grimacing he swallowed a mouthful of the bitter liquid.

He paced back and forth. He wanted to get out of this room. He felt uneasy. His eyes were darting from one corner to the next. It occurred to him that he'd made the potion too strong. Still, it was better than the alternative.

Without having consciously decided to do so he found himself walking through the corridors. All the portraits were asleep. He was glad of it, even more glad that there were no students around to disturb him. He wanted to be alone. Especially at times like this. It was no one's business but his own if he didn't sleep. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides because they wouldn't stop shaking. But he could handle it himself. He didn't need interfering busybodies sticking their nose in where it wasn't wanted. He just needed to be by himself. So why had his feet carried him to the hospital wing again? This was getting ridiculous. Still, he found himself stepping inside.

Good, Sirus seemed to be asleep. It wasn't like he had anything to say to him. He hovered for a few moments near the door before going to sit on one of the beds. It was then that he noticed Sirus' eyes were open, not only open but wide and frightened.

"Black are you awake? Can you hear me? Black?"

* * *

He stood on the windswept rock that was Azkaban. He shivered in the unnatural cold. He wasn't laughing anymore. The reality of the situation was only now sinking in. James and Lilly were dead. It was his fault. How could he have ever thought Remus was the traitor? They'd paid for his mistake. He was going to pay for it too.

_'But that's what I deserve.'_

The shackles around his wrists felt like heavy blocks of ice. The Auror beside him directed him towards the crumbling stone castle. Too tired to scream and struggle and protest his innocence as he had done when they took his photograph, he entered the castle.

It was even colder inside. His breath formed little clouds on the air. He knew there were dementors nearby. Their presence was like a blanket of despair. He saw one at the end of a corridor, as they passed cells of deatheaters who mocked and jeered him - knowing he'd never been one of them. Instantly his vision seemed to swim. He felt his legs collapse.

_He was four years old. His parents were laughing. He was lying on the floor, blood pouring from his nose, unable to get up from the jelly legs jinx they'd cast. _

_'Why did you hate me? What did I do wrong?'_

_And they laughed and laughed and laughed, as though it was the funniest thing in the world. _

_Then gloved hands were grabbing at him, pushing him down against the floor of the cell. Their touch hurt worse than anything else they could do. Their touch made him want to die. _

But all that belonged in the past. His friends had helped him put it there. He remembered that as the dementor moved on. He also remembered that his friends were dead, or traitors, or thought him to be. He realized that he was in a heap on the ground. The Auror was looking down at him, seemed amused.

"Get a move on!"

He climbed to his feet, continued down the corridor. They reached an empty cell. The Auror unlocked it and gestured for Sirus to enter. A cold, empty room with one small glassless window.

_'This is where I live from now on.'_

The Auror entered the cell after him. Sirus couldn't understand why. Then his guard took out a wand. He spoke an incantation and suddenly the chains around the animagus' wrists split in half and started to grow longer. An unexpected shove knocked him to the ground. The chains slithered like snakes along the stones before finally fixing themselves in position with heavy bolts.

"Our Lord may be vanquished but your precious Dumbeldore didn't catch all of us!"

Stepping forwards he kicked him hard in the side. Then, a second latter, in the arm, right at the bend of the elbow. Sirus breathed in sharply but didn't cry out. Another kick, this time to the face, caused him to spit blood. All his instincts and memories told him to curl into a ball to minimize the injuries he'd receive. But the chains holding his arms out from his body forced him to lie flat. The man he now knew to be a deatheater stamped down on his stomach. Winded, he couldn't seem to draw breath into his lungs. A second blow to the head knocked his vision out of focus. He felt the wetness of blood seeping through the rough fabric of the prison uniform when one kick was vicious enough to split open the skin.

There was a pause in the violence.

But experience had thought Sirus that it was only that; a pause. A short break for the attacker to catch his breath. Or an attempt to intimidate him, to make what was coming worse by anticipation. A heavy boot slammed down on his right hand. He gasped at the agony of the many small bones breaking. He couldn't help but cry out when he felt the mangled fingers being ground into the stones. A sudden explosion of pain in his left knee let him know he'd been hit again. The blows continued, on and on and on, for what must have been close to an hour. Sirus was left soaked in blood and struggling to breath. The man in the Auror's uniform looked down at him, his face pink from exertion, a twisted smile on his lips. He raised his wand once again. "Crucio infinate."

And then pain really started. And didn't stop.


	16. Sunlight On Ice

Thanks Eescaper, I'm happy you're enjoying it.

Unfortunately I am do speak English as my first language Rose Black. (I wish I spoke Irish at home like some of my friends. A few words popping into conversations hardly counts.) The reason those words are spelt wrong is cause I'm slightly dyslexic and they're not programmed into the spell check like normal words. I have read the books! I only own a copy of the first one though and don't have it with me when I'm writing this.

If it makes you feel any better Crescomelonnin he doesn't get tortured in this chapter.

Just general busyness: exams coming up, finding a place to live ect.… I'll try not to make it to confusing hopgoblen. It's fun though!

Nothing wrong with being a little crazy CitrusPeach :) And, if I understand the term liberal ok, that seems like a good thing too. CDs are shiny!

P.S. Don't worry this story isn't going to get all happy.

* * *

His gaze came far too suddenly into focus.

"It's ok. You're in Hogwarts."

Wide eyes darted around the room. Then, to Serverus' shock, a hand tightly gripped his own. He stiffened - totally unprepared and not sure how to react.

Sirius was clearly not in his right mind. He never would have done that if he were.

_'What the hell am I doing here?'_

"It's ok. Calm down. No one's going to hurt you now."

The words seemed to have some effect as his head and shoulders (which had been raised) fell back onto the bed.

A couple of minutes passed but the grip on his hand did not lessen. Serverus realized that the fingers were freezing cold. Sirius had started shivering. Snape took the wand from his pocket. Instantly he felt the man in the bed tense.

"I'm just going to perform a heating charm on your blanket."

It wasn't clear whether or not he understood.

He did the spell quickly and put his wand away. A comfortable warmth spread through the starched white sheets. At first Sirius seemed confused. Then a shadow of a smile crossed his face and he snuggled into his pillow. Within seconds he was asleep.

* * *

It was seven or eight o'clock the next morning and Snape was sitting at his desk cataloging the numerous potion ingredients in the laboratory. It pointless work, as he'd done it only two weeks before.

_'Dried flobberworms: 5 jars._

_Powdered quartz: 3 jars._

_Murlag sap: 1 bottle.'_

A knock on the door caused him to look up sharply, too sharply. Though there was no one to see he felt shame coursing through his veins, quickly to be replaced by self-loathing.

That knocking again. Insistent.

"I'm busy!"

"It's just me Serverus." He recognized the voice as belonging to Madam Pomphrey. "I need a quick word with you."

_'Just go away.'_

She pushed open the door and entered the dungeon room.

"I know you've been visiting Sirius."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would I want to see him?"

"It's not a crime to care about someone you know." Her voice was kind. It reminded him of another kind voice he'd known. _Dead eyes, staring upwards. The pale almost blue skin of a corpse. Blond hair, stained with blood._

_'Of course it is.'_

"If you weren't in the hospital wing then who cast the heating charm on his blanket?"

Poppy continued before he could think of any way to reply to that. "You've nothing to be embarrassed about Serverus. It would probably do him good to have someone his own age to talk to_." 'It might do you some too'_ she thought, careful not to say it aloud. "Listen I'm bringing Sirius outside from some fresh air this afternoon. Why don't you come along?"

He made his best scoffing noise.

The mediwitch smiled worryingly. "Alright, if you don't come outside tomorrow I will inform Dumbledore that you have not been in the great hall for the last two days."

_'He has enough to worry about.'_

"Not that it's any of your business if I feel like skipping a few meals." A pause. "Fine, I'll go."

Poppy beamed. "Wonderful! Three o'clock by the lake."


	17. To Sleep Without Dreams

It's ok to find that cute CitrusPeach; it was a trying to help type of blackmail rather than a being mean type of blackmail :) Yay! I like you! I'm vegetarian too! Copying CDs is fun. Hope your toe is better soon.

Glad you like it EsScaper. I'll try make the chapters longer Iisjah. There's only one more in this part though.

If I knew when they were right or wrong Rose Black I'd do that :) I can speak Irish – just not well cause it's not my first language. To prove it to you here's a poem I wrote last weak. The grammer and spelling are probably crap but see if you can figure out what it's about:

Suí amach san stoirm  
Mar tá brón orm.  
Gearr.  
Dearg ar an urlár.  
Scíobh sé san 'Tarabh'  
Go fuair mé marabh.

By the way sorry this update took so long. I've been busy with studying and stuff.

* * *

They were by the lake. The sun was pouring down its golden light all over the school grounds. Everything seemed bright and lively. The surface of the water sparkled like some enormous diamond. One tentacle of the giant squid appeared and waved, as though in greeting, before submerging again. Even the Forbidden Forest seemed less dark and oppressive than usual. It was a glorious day. And Severus hated it. 

He was squinting as his eyes had stubbornly refused to adjust. And he could already feel his skin starting to tingle from the unaccustomed exposure to the sun's rays. The thick black robes that covered everything apart from his face felt heavy and overly warm. But even if had been observing the scene from a shady room inside he would have still experienced the same sense of loathing that he felt at that moment. Or was it envy?

The cheerfulness, the joy and tranquility made him want to scream. This summer day belonged to something he could never be a part of. He might have been a spy for the light but everyone knew - spies were not to be trusted. He had always belonged in the darkness. He'd been born into it. There had never been a choice.

_'But I made a choice.'_

_'Too late. Not when it really counted.'_

In children's stories the heroes were always strong and handsome, with wavy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. The villains were thin and ugly, with big hooked noses - did they know how many times it had been broken? - and greasy black hair. In children's stories appearance told you all you needed to know about a person.

And after the old had sitting on his head had called out "Slitherine" no one had given him a chance. A chance to prove that in real life such judgments held little value.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of cherry blossoms.

Madam Pomphrey had brought Sirius out in an odd looking muggle contraption she called a wheelchair. It would be some time yet before he had recovered enough strength to walk around on his own.

"Well, I'll be leaving you boys to it."

_'What! Where was she going?'_

"I have plenty of work to attend to back in the infirmary."

_'Did I say that out loud?'_

"I'll be back to get you in a couple of hours. OK Sirius?"

No response, but she hadn't really been expecting one. With a last glance at the two younger men she headed back to the castle.

Black stared out across the water. He looked sick and tired, with a gaunt face and shadows under his eyes. He craned his neck to look at the blue sky.

"Nice. Warm. "

Severus gave a non-committal, unimpressed grunt.

"I remember here. Seems the same. Was it really fifteen years?"

"Yes."

These were the most words Sirius had spoken at one time since he'd been taken out of Azkaban and Snape knew he should try to keep him talking. However conversation had never been one of his strong points.

"Sometimes it seemed much longer. But now, it's starting to feel like it was only hours or days."

A pretty butterfly fluttered -past, seemingly completely at harmony with the world.

"I still can't believe they're dead."

"They are."

He didn't say anything after that. They sat in silence waiting for Poppy to return. Severus silently cursed himself for ruining everything. Then he felt confused and wondered what could possibly be going on in his brain. What the fuck was he supposed to have ruined? It wasn't like they were going to be friends. It wasn't like he had even the slightest desire to be friends with anyone, never mind Sirius Black!

_'Stop lying to yourself! You want it. But now he'll probably never even look at you again because you've gone and screwed things up, just like you always do!'_

_

* * *

_

Sirius lay quietly, looking up at the ceiling. His mind however was anything but quiet. Pomphrey had given him several potions, then tucked the blankets around him saying he needed rest. His gaze fell to the bottle dreamless sleep standing on the table beside his bed._ 'Rest.'_ There must be at least twenty doses left in there. He still couldn't believe that James and Lilly were dead, that Peter had betrayed them all. Remus was still alive, or so he'd been informed. Apparently Mooney had even been teaching at the school a few years ago. But currently he was uncontactable. The last anyone knew he'd had business in Siberia. It would be weeks before any owl would reach him._ 'Prongs wasn't meant to die!'_ To Sirius' eyes James Potter had been perfect, had been everything he'd wished he could be. He wasn't supposed to die._ 'How am I meant to get through this without them? It hurts too much.'_ All the old pain had come flooding back. _'Stop touching me! Stop touching me!'_ Phantom hands trailed down his chest. _'You helped me forget once before. Now I need to again. But now I'm all alone. I can't do this on my own.'_ If he just stretched out his hand he'd have the bottle of potion. They said he'd been lucky. Because he hadn't completely lost his mind. _'If I'm lucky then why doesn't anything make sense anymore? Why does everything hurt so fucking much? Just reach out and take it! Dreamless... No.'_ He'd wait till the medi-witch had gone to bed. He couldn't risk her noticing. He'd wait. And then, while she was asleep, he'd take it.

To sleep. To sleep and never dream. To sleep and never wake up.


	18. Not Alone

Thank you for reviewing CitrusPeach! Since you did I'm going to post this next part now. I guess we eat meat cause we're brought up to think it's normal. I think it's a psychological thing with the meat substitutes. I remember my sister was enjoying a lasagna made from Quorn but once she found out it wasn't meat said it was awful! School meat? What's that? Sounds bad. I'm so glad I'm not in school anymore! You have to pass gym? If that's the same as PE (I'm guessing it is) the last 3 years I was in school I didn't even have it. It's not really a real subject in Ireland (as in it doesn't count for anything when you want to go to college). Who are RENT? A band? The weather here's insane. It's ok today but a couple of days ago it was switching between really heavy hail and bright and sunny about every half an hour! People can't decide if it's the greenhouse effect or if it's always been like this!

Anyway, here's the fic. This is the last part of this part. Sorry it's short and not very good.

* * *

Snape had told himself that he would not visit Sirius tonight. He obviously wasn't wanted and had no business doing so. However he had slept less than three hours in the last seven days. That meant more potion would be necessary if he were to prevent the nightmares that inevitably came with closing his eyes. 

He swallowed two mouthfuls of the intensely blue liquid. It tasted somewhat like lemon juice, only more chemical. The excess energy came into effect soon afterwards. And he found himself once more walking quickly but without direction through the corridors of the school. He swore when he found himself by the hospital wing again. _'Turn around. Stop in the library and pick up a book you haven't read a hundred times already. Better yet; go for a walk in the forest. Maybe something will pop out and eat you.' _Yet he pushed open the door and looked inside.

Sirius was asleep, peacefully it seemed. His breathing was slow. His thin body was relaxed. For some completely irrational reason that made Severus angry.

He was about to leave when he noticed the broken bottle of dreamless sleep on the floor.

_'Fuck!'_

He rushed over to the bed. Quickly he checked the other man's pulse. It was faint, and far too slow.

He threw open the doors of the medicine cabinet and searched for half a dozen seconds that felt like hours before finding the antidote. He forced half the bottle down Sirius' throat. Then he remembered to breathe.

Brown eyes flickered open. He was probably feeling sick but at least now was no longer drifting from sleep into death.

"Why did you do that?"

Black didn't answer.

"Why did you do that?"

"Why did you stop me?"

"If I can't end my life why should you be able to end yours?"

"You haven't been through what I have. Why should you want to die?"

"You don't know anything about my life."

"I know you weren't there, chained up in my room, or in those dungeons. You didn't have hands running unwelcome up and down your skin. Someone forcing their way inside you, taking what isn't theirs..."

"Yes I did!" _'Shit! Why did I tell him that? He wasn't supposed to know. No one was supposed to know!'_

Sirius was stunned. "Who?"

_'Fuck, I wish I hadn't said anything!'  
_"My father."  
_'Don't tell him about the meetings. He doesn't need to know about that too.'_

"When?"

"Since before I can remember till I left when I was eighteen." He said it quickly, looking at the floor. "I'm going to get Madam Pomphrey for you now."

"Wait. Don't get her."

"I have to. What if you try to do something like this again?"

"I won't. You can stay here if you like, to make sure."

Severus didn't actually say anything indicating agreement with this. He did however pull over one of the nearby beds and sit down on it. This position was uncomfortable and after few minutes he lay down on his back instead. He flinched when he felt a hand close around his own. But looking to his side he saw that it was only Sirius. He wanted to pull away but the other man seemed to be asleep.

_'What do I care if I wake him?'_

Yet he didn't move.

The darkened room, the stillness and sheer exhaustion were starting to act against the potion Severus had already consumed. He didn't notice his eyes closing. The warmth on his hand didn't feel so bad. It was sort of nice. Then he was asleep.

And for the first time in a very long time neither Sirius Black nor Severus Snape had any nightmares.


	19. ManMade

Don't worry Cap'n Dru Shaddix, like I said earlier (but it was in one of the notes at the beginning and I know I usually skip reading those) there will be three parts to this. That was just the end of the second. P.S. Glad you like it.

Thanks for the constructive criticism EsScaper. I was worried about making it too emotional and over the top so I probably went a bit too far the other way. If I get the time I might re-write it.

Aww… thanks CitrusPeach. Wow, that's pretty early. I was 13 before I decided to become vegetarian. I'd wanted to for a few years before that but my parents didn't want me to. Yea, I've heard of it. I don't really have a big problem with (other) people eating meat, it's more that I think the animals don't get a very good life and that the land could be used more productively to grow vegetables (i.e. a lot more people could be fed.) Also I don't really see the point, we don't need meat to survive so why kill the animals? My sister (who was living in England for a while) once brought me back Morning Star Bacon Style strips and they were so good! And yea, veggie nuggets are yummy. That sounds pretty bad alright. Does everyone not get sick from it? Or is it really cooked? I think most schools here you do do PE till the end (the last two schools I went to were just a little… odd) but there are no exams or anything in it. That sounds really good, musicals have to be either really happy or really sad. (3 reallys!) My e-mail's irene.mcquillan2mail.dcu.ie Have a fun trip! Will you be speaking Spanish on it? It was really long. Here, have a trophy made of keyboard characters for such a long review: U>  
(Looked better before the computer insisted on deleating half of it. Oh well.)

Grimaland? What is Grimaland? I can't see what if anything your "review" had to do with this fanfic. You're certainly entitled to your opinions but I'm sure there are many more appropriate places to express them.

This is the start of the 3rd part. See as I'm writing this, any possibly happy bits have been skipped and we're back to everything being awful. It's skipped forward again but only about five years this time.

* * *

**Voldermort's Dungeons:**

Remus took a deep breath to steady himself. Then, when the stench of the dungeons filled his nose, he wished he hadn't.

Harry had killed Voldermort. Tom Riddle was finally gone. But what a mess he'd left behind.

Remus had been beneath Riddle Manor for about half an hour now, part of a team of Order members and Aurors. They'd been ordered to search the cells, to see if any prisoners were still alive in this man-made hell. So far they'd found only dead bodies. Most had their throats slit.

It seemed the guards had executed them when it became apparent that they had lost the war.

Each time they opened a cell and saw another battered, lifeless corpse Lupin felt a little bit of his soul crumble and die. But they had to keep looking. There was still the small hope that some people had survived. Besides, the bodies had to be removed.

_'How can anyone be capable of such evil?'_

Somehow that thought only struck him now, after the war was finished. Certainly he'd seen people wounded and killed before. But that was different. That was on a battlefield. The cruelty and death engaged in here seemed mindless, done entirely for its own sake.

_'Only one more door.'_

This one was different to the other, where the fronts were iron bars. This one had a heavy wooden door blocking any view of what was inside. Several curses had to be removed before it would open. When finally they had all been dealt with Tonks opened the door. She didn't look so young anymore. Her right arm was still in a sling from the final battle.

In the shadows at the back of the cell a body lay curled in on itself and facing away from them. Even in the poor light it was clear that figure was covered in uncountable injuries. The Aurors turned to leave.

"Wait!" Remus could sense something they couldn't. The blood here was fresh. "This one's not dead."

Cautiously he entered the cell. Relief at having found at least one person alive warred the knowledge that the injuries becoming apparent were worse than any he'd seen before. He - for Lupin could now tell that the prisoner was male - was naked and emaciated beyond belief. Little skin was visible beneath the bark bruises and layers of dirt and dried blood. But the whip lashes on his back had exposed bone. Closer now, it was evident he was shaking. Though this response was more likely due to the crutius curse than the cold Remus still took off his cloak and wrapped it around the skeletal form.

"We're going to get you out of here. Do you understand?"

There was no answer.

Carefully, as he didn't want to cause further injury, Remus turned the man to face him. But he still could not tell if he was conscious. Both his eyes were swollen shut. His whole face was covered in bruising. His jaw and nose were certainly broken, probably both his cheek bones as well. Lupin looked away, he felt sick.

It was then that he noticed a note pinned - literally pinned - to the man's left arm. Just beneath it was the dark mark, crossed through with an x of deep scar tissue. He realized who this had to be.

His voice broke as he said it but he managed to get the words out. "I think this is Snape."

* * *

The scrap of parchment was bloodstained but the elegant scrawl was still legible. Just five words: "My gift to you Albus."

* * *


	20. Damage Done

Opps! You're right to be confused EsScaper, I forgot to explain that time has jumped forwards again. About five years this time. Also Sirius is still alive. (That should be pretty obvious cause he's in this chapter.) He shows lots of emotion too (and in the next chapter) so hopefully that'll make you happy :)

Yea, Voldermort found out he was a spy Crescomellonnin. To be honest I haven't really decided how! Sorry.

I could read it CitrusPeach! Glad you liked it :) They were both pretty different schools. The only thing they really had in common was they both didn't have many rules and were pretty much filled with people who either couldn't cope in normal schools or got kicked out of them. (Both in my case.) The first was tiny. It was just one (falling apart) terraced house and a shed behind it. There was only about 100 students (and that was everyone, from 4 to 18). It was nice but the teaching was pretty crap. That's why I went to the other one for my last year. It was a grind school just for 5th and 6th years (17/18 year olds usually, though there were people there from about 15- their 20s) and there were about 1000 students! Also it was mixed and there were lots of people from other countries, both of which were new to me. Anyway, it was a good idea to move cause I got a good leaving result (520 out of a possible 600) and more importantly, made loads of friends. I'm going to stop going on about school now. Sounds interesting :) How do you know if you've passed if there are no exams? Well you deserve it, that was another long review! Sure you can! Let me no if you do, I'd love to read them. I don't know who that designer or any of those painters are :( but I'm glad you had a good trip:)

Ok, probably time for warnings now. This chapter is probably a little disturbing (a good chunk of it is just Pomphrey listing all the injuries Snape has) so you might not want to read it.

* * *

**Hogwarts:**

Professor Dumbledore and Poppy Pomphrey stood in silence in the infirmary. On a nearby bed Severus lay unmoving, under the effects of a sleeping draught. St. Mungo's was overflowing. It had made sense to bring him here.

"How bad is it?"

For a moment she couldn't seem to answer. Then her face regained some semblance of professionalism and she recited the injuries.

"His right ankle is shattered and the leg is fractured in two places. His left's broken in three. There are fractures to his pelvis. All his ribs have at some point been broken. Some have healed in bad positions. His right shoulder is dislocated and has been for a long time. That arm is broken at the elbow and again at the wrist. The other one, near the top of the humerus. All his finger have been broken repeatedly. His jaw, nose, left cheek bone and left orbit are all broken. There are two separate skull fractures. Nearly all the skin has been removed from his back, presumably by repeated whippings. There are burns, mainly concentrated around his chest but everywhere really. He has a punctured lung and bruising to most of his internal organs. There are more bruises than I can count and hundreds of cuts ranging from minor to deep gashes. Most of them are infected. Add to that all the injuries that have managed to heal: dozens of broken bones, hundreds maybe thousands of scars from the older cuts and burns... He's hugely underweight. There's evidence of extensive use of crucio along with many other curses. And he's been raped. Repeatedly."

The headmaster said nothing.

"There's more, things I don't quite understand. Given the severity of the damage done, the... the sexual abuse must have been occurring from a very young age. Also some of the healed injuries are decades old, yet too numerous to have come from normal accidents. And some of the scars on his arms, there's something odd about them... too regular."

Dumbledore didn't answer the unspoken question. Instead he asked, "will he recover?"

"Physically? Yes, for the most part he will. Though there will certainly be lasting damage. And there's nothing I can do about the scars. Mentally? I can't even begin to speculate."

There was a long silence.

"Sir, if you're leaving, I'd like to attend to my patient."

"Yes, of course. I'll check in latter Poppy."

* * *

He had barely closed the door to the hospital wing when he found himself confronted by a very unhappy Sirius.

"You said he was dead Dumbledore. You said he was dead and there was nothing we could do!" There were red streaks on his face and it was obvious that unlike Pomphey's, his attempts to hold back tears had been unsuccessful. But then they'd been close, hadn't they? And Sirius had never been particularly stable.

"How could you have left him there for three years? How?"

"I only told you what I believed to be true. As no information on the Order was leaked I assumed Voldermort had to have killed him."

"Liar! You knew he'd never talk. And you knew Voldermort would never be so kind to a traitor as to simply kill them."

"Son, I did not know."

"You knew! You're Albus Dumbledore, supreme mugwump and all that! You know everything. Of course you knew."

His anger seemingly spent he collapsed on one of the bottom steps of a nearby staircase and, resting his head on his knees, waited.


	21. Hope And Its Lack

Thanks EsScaper. Sorry, this chapter is short too :( The next will be longer though. I'm a bit shit with emotions, it actually shows up more in real life than in stories though. I'm no good at recognizing them. This psychiatrist my parents had me seeing a while ago diagnosed me with something and gave me this CD-ROM full of facial expressions and stuff. He wanted to give me medicine too but I wouldn't take it. I'm getting off topic here. Yea, I'll try harder to make the emotional reactions realistic. It's easier when it's just writing anyway. Thanks again for your review, sometimes I don't try as hard as I should with fanfiction and you're encouraging me to make an effort to write better. (Unfortunately the effect of your encouragement will not be obvious for a bit, I'm a couple of chapters ahead at the moment.) I don't have a clue who that was!

Not too happy with this chapter. It's mostly about Madam Pomphrey, who I'm not too interested in. I'm really busy with exams and moving though so I didn't have time to re-write it.

* * *

"Snape can you hear me? The war is over and you're safe now. Do you understand?"

He was blinking, apparently trying to open his eyes. Poppy quickly dimmed the light level. She'd spent the last two hours repairing the punctured lung, removing as many of the bruises and burns as she could, speeding up the healing of cuts with magical salves - though the worst ones still had to be wrapped in bandages- and setting broken bones. It had taken three cleansing charms before she'd even been able to see half the injuries her wand had informed her existed. At that point it had also become clear how incredibly pale he was, almost as white as the sheets. His hair had been so matted and filthy there had been little choice but to shave almost all of it off. Quite a number of bones would have to be removed and regrown but she wasn't prepared to do that to Severus until he was considerably stronger. As she had said to Harry all those years ago, regrowing bones was a nasty business. And she hadn't just been referring to the pain. The results could be unpredictable too. That was especially true for small delicate bones. They'd never be as good as before. And returning that shoulder to its correct position after so long would be next to impossible.

Right now she was unsure as to whether or not he was entirely conscious. Gently she touched his arm. He flinched and his breathing became more rapid.

"No, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. Do you know where you are?"

Silence.

"Do you know who I am?"

Silence.

* * *

_'I'm too old to be sitting on steps.'_

The thought crossed her mind only briefly before she was distracted by Sirius sobbing beside her.

_'Maybe I should have lied.'_

She pulled him into a hug as he continued to cry. _'Poor boys. They've both had so much more than their fair share of pain. I didn't realize they had this much in common when I started encouraging them to be friends. They just seemed so alone. And they were the same age. Did I do the wrong thing? It's causing so much pain for Sirius now... No. It was right. It helped them both, actually gave them some measure of happiness. But what happens now?'_

Sirius seemed to have stopped crying. "Maybe," he paused, uncertain. "Maybe he didn't say anything because someone cast a silencing charm on him."

"Maybe."

In all honesty she didn't think this was the case. It was possible though.

"Do you want to go see if he's awake again and I'll check?"

He nodded.

Poppy's joints creaked as she stood_. 'I think when this is over I want to retire.'_


End file.
